


Always by Your Side

by That_Girl_Under_A_Rock



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, All About Family, F/M, Gen, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, POV Third Person, Poor Health, Slow Burn, Very concerned daughter, aggressive helpfullness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Girl_Under_A_Rock/pseuds/That_Girl_Under_A_Rock
Summary: Thyra's father was chosen to go on a noble quest to assist in taking back a kingdom under the mountain. Though he is severely ill, he accepts the invitation to join. She only get involved because the man is too stubborn to realize he is not invincible. Her only goal is see her family, and those she will learn to call family, through till the very end. Even if that means dealing with some very stubborn dwarves along the way.





	1. Introduction

            When Thyra was a little girl Bree seemed like a vast city filled with a wide assortment of people and stories that could be heard from all over the land. She loved trailing along after her father, Herluin Sieglinde, as he wove through the narrow dirt streets going about his business selling maps or items he made in the smith’s shop. She loved the days that he did not work, as she often looked forward to being carried on his shoulders, especially during celebrations when she could look out over the bobbing heads of the crowd to see dancers and merrymakers. She loved her little home, even when the rain storms would blow through and threaten to topple the wooden structure. Her father would simply start a fire in hearth, light his pipe and tell her stories about the adventures he had with her mother in their quest to map out every little route throughout Middle Earth.

            Thyra’s aunt, Serah Appledore often took care of her when she was little. Constant nagging for the girl to act like a proper lady, and to stop playing with her father’s tools. Serah, like Thyra’s mother Lyra, was half Hobbit and like most Hobbit’s expected her niece to have the same interest and behavior. Thyra was not very interested in some of the things her aunt tried to teach her, until it came time to watch her garden, or her aunt taught her how to write. Some lessons included sewing, or cooking, even on how to speak to men as Serah expected her niece to work in inn with her once she was older. Out of politeness Thyra did and learned all that her aunt wanted, but she longed to learn what her father knew about plants, and hear more stories about his travels while mapmaking. Herluin was more than happy to oblige his daughter, and even taught her medicine with his wife’s old journals and later how to hunt with a short bow. He wanted his daughter to have skills she would be able to use for herself should the worst become of her family. Thyra never realized how valuable both her aunt’s and father’s lessons would be to her future.

            Though if Thyra had one memory that stood out from the others of her young life. She could remember running through the fields of her father’s property, charging into the woods to find some good trees for climbing. She had reached the edge of the rolling field when a tall figure cast his shadow over her. “And where are you going little one?” He asked from under a pointed faded blue-grey hat. She flashed a toothy grin to the kind withered face, as she examined the elder’s long grey robes and the tall wooden staff he leaned on.

            “Thyra!” Her father came calling through the field. Herluin had much more energy and life in him then. His green eyes shown with excitement when he saw the Grey elder had found his daughter. “My old friend! How are you?” He greeted embracing the bearded man who made her father seem so much shorter as well. Herluin quickly scooped up his daughter as he spoke to the Grey man and led him to their home. If one were to ask Thyra what the two talked about, she would only be able to describe the fantastical stories and epic tales of adventures and heroes that made her eyes grow wide in wonder. Of course, the man did not stay long, perhaps a week or less, but he always came back a few months or years later. Each time he returned his tales became more amazing and inspiring. As a child Thyra thought that was all they were, stories and nothing more.

            One day however, the Grey man left, and did not return for many years and Thyra was no longer a child when he finally returned. The twinkle in the old man’s eyes were gone, and his brows furrowed deeply when he came asking for Herluin. Thyra was still young, by Hobbit standards anyway, but still could sense the tension in the room when the Grey man told his final story. He spoke of fear and the destruction of a great city. Dale burned to ground, and the kingdom of Erebor over taken by a vile dragon. The people of both facing death and misfortune, but the dwarves of Erebor forging on to wander the land.

            “But they had warriors. Did they not rise up to defeat the dragon? Does this story not have a good ending?” She asked her heart sinking at the thought she had been misunderstanding all that she had heard from the man in the past years.

            “My dear if only their efforts had been enough,” He answered somberly. “Many should have liked their warriors to be enough, but not all stories have such happy endings.” His grey eyes went misty as he continued, “Just the same that most stories hold truths we may not always want to face.”

            That was the last time the Grey man visited Thyra and her father, but she did not care much for stories of adventures and quest after that. She feared for the people in them, or whom the story was about, and all that they would be unable to conquer. She occupied herself by studying her mother’s notes on healing, or working with her aunt at the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Soon she was able to offer her healing skills to the sick of Bree, a skill she never thought that she would have to use for her father.

            Herluin’s stubborn will was the only thing keeping him working as a blacksmith, but the smoke became too much for his lungs. Thyra grew accustomed to arriving home late from the Inn and seeing his slumped figure by the fire place in an attempt to wait up for her. He would apologize over and over for his coughing as she made him a cup of soothing tea. Thyra assured him that it was alright, that it was not his fault that he grew sick, and that she would always be there to care for him. He was her father, always by her side when she needed him most and now he needed her.

            “Family is the one thing always with you,” he would say, “I will always be by your side…”


	2. Chapter 1: Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thyra does her best to keep up with a busy schedule, and because of that sometimes opportunities are miss out of a sense of duty. When an unexpected guest arrives, Thyra thinks things will continue with business as usual, but apparently her father has other plans he would like her to make.

  

            Rubbing her aching temples, Thyra stepped into the noisy rowdiness that was the Prancing Pony. She had been working there for years, and though some of the drunken men frustrated her, she did not mind serving and talking with the soberer people who passed through. Still on the Inn’s rowdier nights, she would rather risk infection taking care of the sick, than being trampled by a drunken man calling for another ale. She squeezed her way to the counter, side stepping a few large men as they chortled past, before ducking behind the counter and dawning an apron.

            “Oi! There ya are Thyra, I was beginnin’ to think you might not come tonight.” Serah called as she loaded a plate with food.

            “Sorry Aunt Serah, Father was having another coughing fit and I needed to make him some tea.” She called back as she tied the apron around her waist so it covered her faded blue skirt. “Has the little Butterbur come to help you any?”

            Serah shook her head to the latter question and pushed past her niece to deliver the food. “Your father!” She huffed, “Stubborn that man is, for all the years I’ve known him, he won’t ever learn to take care of himself. Even when he was young he…”

            Thyra chose not to hear the rest as her aunt walked away, instead choosing to wipe down the counter as best she could so that ale would not drip onto the floor any more than usual. Still she had to agree with her aunt, that Herluin seemed to think himself invincible, though she felt it had something to do with all he had been through. However, between all his experience, and Thyra’s willingness, neither could find a remedy or cure that would be able to stop his horrid coughing. She feared the worse if she was unable to figure out something soon.

            She cleaned off the counter smiling and making small talk with many of the customers, once again finding the company of the more sober much more pleasant than anyone else’s. Once done wiping down the counter, she busied herself cleaning out mugs and found herself distracted as two large men parted the crowd of people only to sit on opposite sides of the room. She studied them for a moment, never having seen them before, and made it a habit to introduce herself to all new comers in the town. She was just considering going to go give each of them an ale, when a familiar smiling face slid into her line of view.

            “Evenin’ Thyra! How are ya doing? Hope you aren’t workin’ too hard mhmm?” He asked small smile lines forming around his brown eyes. Calder, the man leaning over counter too peek at what Thyra had in her hands, had known her for most of her life, though enough that she even saw him grow up for most of his life. The two were close friends, often going on walks through Bree, and occasionally he would visit her at the Prancing Pony, or accompany her while she checked her father’s game traps in the woods.

            Thyra shook her head a bit with a chuckle, “Oh you know the usual. A long day, and a bit of a long night ahead of me too. My father is still coughing, but I’m sure that he will improve soon.” She shrugged a bit as she reached for a mug to clean out. She tried to glance around her friend seeing the two men she wanted to serve a drink now huddled together in an attempt to speak to each other.

            “So, have you thought about my offer?” Calder asked, his brows raised in a pleading sort of look.

            Thyra blinked in confusion, not expecting him to bring up the journey so soon again and kept her eyes trained on the mug in her hand. “Aye, I have,” She mumbled, “And I do not think that’d be a good idea Calder. I am sorry but as I’ve said before, I have my father to look after. It does not matter if I really would like to travel to Gondor, I cannot abandon my father.”

            She heard him let out a breath, and she had expected a reaction like that. She set down her mug and picked up another as he continued, “I thought you might say that. Will you come see me off when I leave?” He asked running a hand through his brown hair and giving her the same hopeful look he gave a moment before.

            “Of course I will Calder,” Thyra answered finally looking up from her mug. “What kind of a person do you think I am?” She put her hands on her hips looking up at him brows furrowed in mock annoyance.

            “The kind of woman who has too much on her mind,” Calder answered leaning over the bar and ruffling the top of Thyra’s head.

She rolled her eyes and walked to the other end of the counter to finish cleaning out the mugs, just as her aunt came up shoving a tray full of food into her arms. The mug clattered into the bin with the others as Thyra blinked up in surprise.

“This goes out to the table with the dark-haired dwarf,” Serah said keeping the opening in the bar wide enough for her niece to walk through. Thyra nodded obediently and hurried out with her tray.

Sidestepping drunks, and other people there at the inn, Thyra was too busy trying not to run into anyone to get a good look at the dwarf as she set down the plate of warm bread and steaming lamb, along with a hearty mug of ale. “Enjoy your meal, should you need anything my name is Thyra,” she said scurrying around the empty chair across from him to pick up the dirty dishes from the table next to his. More people were coming in and out of the Prancing Pony making it difficult for Thyra to hear if the dwarf said anything in reply to her.

She was about to turn around when one of the large men who came in earlier pushed past her, followed quickly by another man who had been sitting opposite him in the room. Thrya stumbled forward, luckily only dropping one cup that was quickly picked up by Calder and placed back on her pile of dirty dishes. He helped her get to the counter and she dropped each dish into their respective wash bin.

Picking up a rag to clean another mug, Thyra huffed seeing the two men who pushed her muttering to one another near the door. She shook her head and looked down as she stacked away her mug. The voices near the door suddenly grew louder and more violent. Before she could say anything, her uncle and Calder were already pushing them out of the inn and out into the street. With a hard frown Thyra went back to cleaning the dishes and shook her head again.

“What were those brutes fighting about?” She asked once Calder sat back down at the bar. Thyra cast a quick glance to the window in time to see the two men mucking about outside.

“Somethin’ about money and payment. I didn’t ask, and they seemed too drunk to care as much.”

Thyra shook her head, “What some people will do for money-“ she shook her head and scrunched up her face.

“Well I don’t think you’ll need to worry ‘bout them for a while now. You just worry about what you need to do,” Calder said with a small smile.

Thyra shrugged and nodded, but she had so much on her mind already, there would not have been room for her to worry about those men anyway.

 

 

            Thyra’s home was nothing more than a small wooden farmhouse that sat alone on the western edge of Bree. Its small wooden frame meant the summers were hot and the long winters were cold, but still there was nowhere in the land she would have rather lived. Every night, after she left her work at the Inn Thyra would see the soft glow of lamps in the windows. In the past it meant that her father would be waiting for her by hearth pretending he hadn’t fallen asleep waiting up for her, but now it only reminded her why her father was having trouble sleeping.

            She could hear her father’s violent coughing before she walked through the door, and felt unsurprised that he was sloughed over the little table in the dining room. It did not matter how many times she told him to just go to sleep if he felt ill, the man was too insistent on waiting up for his only daughter. Though Herluin seemed to outlast many of his companions, Thyra could tell the cough had taken its toll. His once sandy brown hair was mostly silver, and his vibrant green eyes had lost their twinkle. He didn’t say it, but it hurt him to move sometimes, and he often had her check the traps set around the property now.

            Instead of greeting him, Thyra went straight to brewing a tea to sooth her father’s throat and brought it to his side. “T-thank you, Thyra,” he wheezed. “How was-?”

            “Shh,” Thyra interrupted, “You need your rest father. Work was fine, just the usual. You on the other hand have likely had a long day and need to get to sleep.”

            Herluin waved off his daughter sleepily, and took a sip of his tea. “You might be right, but I still want to know how your day was. How is Calder? He goes to see you at the inn, yes?”

            Thyra wrung her apron a bit before untying it from around her waist. “I- Yes he does… He is doing fine I suppose. He still plans on leaving for Gondor, tomorrow. Though I wish he would wait a week or two. I might have been able to help him prepare more, or you could have made him copies of your maps.”

            Herluin braced him self and stood up, even pushing away Thyra as she moved to help him. He told himself he was only tired and that was why his legs felt like lead, but still now that his daughter was home he would sleep easier. “Did he not ask you to go with him?” He asked as the floor creaked beneath their feet as the two walked to his small bed room.

            Thyra nodded, focusing her attention on one bent piece of metal hanging off the lamp she held.

            “But you told him no,” he asked quietly.

            She nodded again, appreciating his concern, but feeling uncomfortable knowing that both men had seemed to talk about the issue while she was not around. “Do you really think I would leave at a time like this?” She asked watching her father sit on the edge of the bed. She stood near the doorway, doing her best not to cross her arms, or sound as if she were scolding a child. “I cannot leave you hear to cough up your life. You need help and care. I need to be here with you to see that you get better.” She could feel his tired eyes on her as she took a few steps into the room and then retreated to the doorway in her anxiousness.

            “I wish that you would not worry so much. It is unbecoming of you,” He told her. “ I am a grown man, I can take care of myself, despite what you come home to on nights you work late.”

            Thyra pinched the bridge of her nose. If he could take care of himself, then why was he not doing it? “What do you mean ‘unbecoming?’ Is it not right for me to want to help my family? I will not sit by idly as you wither away!” She stepped more into the room, and felt a knot building in her chest. She rubbed her temple with her free hand and took a breath to steady herself.

She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to drip wax onto the floor. She hung her head and looked back up to her father, taking his silence for exasperation. “Please forgive my outburst Father,” She said after a few moments. “I do not want you to grow more sick.”

She looked up to find her father smiling patiently at her. “It is not for you to worry about.”

Thyra did her best not to frown at his words, instead smiling as he kissed her forehead and bid her goodnight. With a heavy sigh she walked to her bedroom to collapse into what she hoped would be a dreamless sleep.

_The sky bled crimson as cries for help pieced the sky. The once magnificent city crumbled in the heat. Women, children, soldiers pushed past me attempting to flee. A numbness washed over her as tongues of fire licked their way up the city walls. Slowly Thyra’s legs pulled her through the carnage._

_The stench of burning bodies and smoke cut through her lungs as Thyra wove her way up a watch tower. Down below the fire ravaged the city. For a fleeting moment, she gained the sense to run. Instead she meets the piercing eyes of the beast as his flames engulfed the tower._

Thyra shot up right, her sheets sticking to her cold sweat. She turned shook her head in a panic as the dim early morning light came into the small drab room and into her eyes.  The sunlight had not yet come up over the trees, but that was just the way she liked her mornings. Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes, she laid back on the bed looking up at the low ceiling and then to the small desk littered with old journals and notes on the other side of the room. She silently cursed herself for thinking of the stories the Grey man used to tell when she was little. Every so often she would have nightmares based off of the stories he told. The battles, the beast, everything would haunt her dreams.

She shook her head and sat up stiffly before stretching the sleep from her aching limbs. Grabbing a fresh set of clothes, she took a quick bath, and braided back her damp black hair, before heading over to the kitchen. If she knew one way to wake her brain from sleep, the smell of bacon always seemed to do the trick. Her hands still trembled a bit once she got a small fire going, but soon got into her normal rhythm. Soon the smell of frying bacon and eggs filled the little home and she could hear footsteps coming into the room behind her.

“Morning Thyra,” Her father yawned. “I assume you haven’t changed your mind about leaving with Calder?”

“That would be correct,” Thyra answered not looking at her father. She silently filled his plate and set it on the table in front of him with a small nod.

“Did you at least think about his offer?” Herluin pressed before taking a fork full of eggs.

Thyra gave a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping as she answered, “Yes, I did.” She filled her own plate. “And I felt that you needed me here. I really did consider traveling with Calder to Gondor, but I could never forgive myself if you illness grew worse in my absence.”

She was about to turn and sit at the table when her father stepped in front of her.  She looked up at his tired green eyes as he kissed her forehead. “I know you worry about me, but you must learn to live your own life. You cannot take care of everyone forever.” He put his hands on her shoulders, “I’ve always told you, we make the hardest sacrifices for those we love right?”

“Yes Da, and that was my sacrifice.”

“And what if I told you my sacrifice would be to live alone, so that you could make a life with Calder?”

Thyra blinked rapidly in confusion not sure what to make of his words. What did he mean ‘make a life with Calder?’ Neither Clader nor her father had ever expressed that to her in the past. Sure traveling was a nice thought, but ‘making a life’? She might be well over the normal marrying age, but that did not mean she was thinking of that. She couldn’t, not yet, not until she knew her father was going to be alright and well without her help.

She shook her head slowly causing her father to sigh, “That was the lad’s way of pledging himself to you, asking you to marry him.”

Thyra wrinkled her nose at the thought. Calder was a good friend to her, she had no intentions of seeing him in such a way.

Her father patted her shoulder gently, “Its okay Thyra, I knew that you might hesitate, and Calder was more than willing to leave that decision up to you. Now, you better hurry or you’ll miss seeing the lad off.” He said kissing her forehead again.

Thyra felt a little woozy as mindlessly packed a small supply bag for her friend.  Dried meat, bread, and some dried vegetables were stuffed into a small sack, a final gift of farewell to her friend. Her stomach twisted uneasily as she walked out the door and headed toward town. Thyra did want to travel, she could easily  recall the nights she poured over her father’s old maps and asking him to tell her everything he could remember. Still she knew she would wait until her father was in good health again. She tried not to think about what her father and Calder had intended for her, instead she did her best to go through the list of things she had to do for the day after telling her friend goodbye.

She walked through the little sleeping town, always enjoying how the early morning sun peeked out from behind the trees making the deep purple sky burn orange. Closed store fronts, and quiet dark windows lined the street, as she made her way to the far east end of town. She continued to recount her tasks for the day, thankful that she would be able to finish before lunch, and could rest before going to work at the inn.

Thyra was so lost in her thoughts that she collided with a large brown object. Stumbling back in surprise, Thyra looked up as the chestnut horse whinnied happily and shook its head a bit. “Mornin’ Thyra,” a Calder pipped up peering around the horses head. Pulling all five feet of Thyra in for a hug, she buried her face in his shoulder breathing in the musty scent of hay as he twirled her around. She tried to look up as she felt her feet touch the ground again, but sighed feeling her friend’s chin on top of her head and his arms still around her. “So this is it then eh?” he asked.

Thyra pushed away and gave a small nod, “Yes, it is.” She took a small step back and reached around for the pack she brought. “Here, I brought you some extra food and supplies. You have a long journey ahead of you,” she said holding out the bag to him.

            She waited as Calder slowly took the bag from her, able to see his brows pulling down ever so slightly. She knew he was disappointed, but she was determined not to leave her father yet. “I’ll wait one more week, if it means you’ll consider coming again,” He told her, and took on of her hands in his own.

            Thyra pulled her hand away and shook her head. “I told you, I can’t. I have my father to think about. I can’t leave him here.”

            “Thrya,” Calder started placing a hand under her chin so that he could look into her stubborn brown eyes. “You have much on your mind. Too much for a lady to have to think about.”

            She took another step back and crossed her arms, not liking how this goodbye was going at all. “What does being a woman have to do with worrying about finding ways support and care for my father? Am I not allowed to have concerns and worries?” Her brows furrowed over her eyes.

            She clenched her jaw as Calder sighed and shook his head, “You know this was supposed to be how I officially started courting you right? Herluin, told me that if you agreed to go with me I had permission to-“

            “You had permission to ask me,” Thyra corrected. “That choice was still mine.”

            His shoulders slumped and he let go of her chin with a small nod. “Thyra I understand why you feel you must stay, truly I do. Please I do not want our last conversation in person to be so tense, so even if you will not come, will you take this as my parting gift to you?” He pulled out a thin gold chain with a small locket of sorts hanging from the end. “I got you this so you could carry a picture of you father and mother in it, in case you came. Your father put the pictures in, just something to remember home by.”

            Thyra took the chain and opened the locket. “Calder… its beautiful…Thank you.”

            “I thought you might like it.” He answered offering her a small smile.

            Thyra hesitantly wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you.

            “You’re welcome, Thyra,” he said quietly and hugging her back. “So this it then eh?” he asked pulling away from his friend.

            “Yeah, I suppose it is,” Thyra said giving him a small smile. “Goodbye Calder, I wish you the very best.”

            “Farewell Thyra,” He patted her shoulder, “Take care of your father, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too.” She watched him put the pack she gave him onto the horse’s saddle bag. With a final nod, he mounted his horse and left on the Greenway.

            A small part of Thyra wanted to call out to her friend, tell him that she would go. She did not want to be courted quite yet, but she did want to leave Bree. The other part, the more realistic and anxious part, turned around and took the road back into Bree without looking back.

 

            Thyra’s usual day consisted of a few chores. The few people that were up as early were the few that were expecting her to bring medicine and herbs she kept for healing. Most of the people were not as sick as her father, and her knowledge was sufficient enough to take care of minor illness and fevers. She got know many of the people that way, and was glad to see that even if she could not do too much, that they appreciated the kindness and help.

            By then the sun was up and much more of the town was awake, but Thyra was heading out of Bree’s westside near her home. There it was quieter, only the sound of the wind blowing through the tree branches and the birds singing their songs broke the silence of the morning. Small groups of wildflowers were scattered in the field leading up to the denser woods. Thyra would walk the outer edge of her father’s property, just along the tree line, to check the small hunting traps she set near the forest. If she was lucky she would find two or three rabbits, today it was only one. Still she knew how to make due well enough. Once she finished with the traps she made her way back home already planning on making a vegetable stew for lunch.

            “Thyra Sieglinde, is that you?” A gravelly commanding voice called from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion upon seeing an elderly man dressed in robes of grey walking up the lane behind her. “Aye, that’d be me. If I may ask who are you?” she asked feeling unfamiliar with the mischievous twinkle in the old man’s eyes.

Leaning heavily on his walking stick, though surprisingly fast Thyra observed, the man quickly caught up to her and motioned for her to continue walking. “That would be because you never called me by my name.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement, “Instead you seemed to think I was some distant relation.”

Thyra furrowed her brows, before snapping her fingers as she realized who he was. “You’re the grey man who used to come visit my father,” She answered. “Maybe I thought you were a relative because of all the stories you told, and you seemed to know my mother as well. I hope you know I meant you no disrespect by not calling you by name. My apologies sir.”

“My dear there is no need to apologize for a simple mistake made as a child. Though it is a wonder why your father would not tell my name by this point, my name is Gandalf.”

Thyra thought for a moment, and the more she thought about the more clearly she remembered her father telling her his name and that Gandalf was a wizard, not a distant relative. She could feel heat rising in her face with embarrassment, but shook the memory away. “What brings you to Bree Gandalf? You haven’t been this way in a while I imagine,” she asked deciding to change the subject away from her childhood misgivings.

The wizard’s grey eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the two continued walking, the little wooden farmhouse getting closer with each step. “You’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you.” He commented instead.

“But of course, the last time you were here I was nothing but a tween, maybe twenty winters at most? And its been at least twenty seven, or twenty eight winters since you’ve last been here.”

Gandalf smiled at her, “Yes it has been a while, much has happened since then. As I said you have grown, maybe not much taller, but you have matured non the less into a woman your mother would be proud of. Now as for my reasons for being here, I’ve come to visit Herluin.” He finally answered. He shifted his hand on his staff as they got closer to her home, “How is you father?”

Thyra stumbled for a moment in her steps and gave a small anxious laugh. “He’s been better. He’s stubborn as ever, still attempting to do some smithing, though not nearly as often as he used to.” She bit the inside of her cheek debating with herself if she should continue. If Gandalf was going to visit her father, he was going to find out anyway, and if anyone could help, it would be him. “A couple of years ago, my father gained a very nasty cough,” she started, “His breathing has become more labored and wheezy. No remedy I have has worked to sooth his cough, Gandalf, I worry about him.”

“It is normal for us to worry about those we care for most, do not fret Thyra. Things happen for one reason or another.” The wizard did not meet her even stare, and she took this to mean that he was not able to help her cure her father. The two then continued on in silence, as they approached the house. Thyra noted that Gandalf still did not truly answer her question as to why he was there and needed to see her father. She thought she would find out soon enough.

Just as Thyra was about to push open the door to her home, loud croaking coughing echoed through the small structure. She flinched but pushed open the door calling, “Da, I’m home, and you have a visitor.” She walked into the small room just to see her father look up from one of his old mapping journals with tired green eyes. His silvering hair stood out at odd ends as if he just woke up from a rather unpleasant nap. He smiled at her weakly, before doubling over from the force of his cough.

She stepped aside as he forced himself to his feet and looked up at his old friend standing behind her. “Hello old friend,” He greeted wiping his hand on his trousers.

“Herluin, its been a long time,” Gandalf answered as he was led to the kitchen by Herluin.

Thyra stood in the main room for a moment, the dead rabbit still hanging from her waist. Since it seemed her presence was no longer being acknowledged she stepped outside again and went around the side of the home to the little garden she had planted there. Preparing the vegetables for the stew would not take long, but skinning the rabbit and shaving the meat would be a while. Nevermind, the fact that the table she used to clean the meat and dry skins was close enough to the kitchen window that she would be able to hear what Gandalf and her father were talking about while she worked.

“Gandalf I’m fine, Thyra is just over exaggerating,” Herluin’s voice sighed from inside the house. “Just tell me the news you brought this time.”

There was a long pause and a knot formed in Thyra’s stomach, that had nothing to do with the rabbit in front of her. The last time Gandalf visited her brought news of the tragedy in Dale. Thyra was young then, she new better now, and would do her best not take such news to heart so quickly.

“It is time for you to return east. Dale is in ruins but you still have family in Esgaroth do you not?” Gandalf finally replied.

“I do, but what are you saying old friend?”

“There is a quest, the one I spoke of in my letter to you. The dwarves of Erebor mean to return to the mountain.”

“Erebor? Gandalf you cannot jest of these things. There is a dragon in that mountain no one would be mad enough- why are you telling me this? My family was of Dale, and Lake Town,” Herluin questioned.

Thyra had quite forgotten about skinning her rabbit, and left the fur half hanging off its back as she crept to the backdoor of her home. She heard Gandalf say something about thirteen dwarves reclaim a mountain, but what really had her hair standing on end was mention of the dragon.

“I have offered to guide them, but only until we have crossed the mountains. It would do them well to have your knowledge of the land past that.”

There was another sigh and another round of coughing. “Gandalf it has been a long time since I have been that way. Over fifty years at least, my memory is not what it once was.”

“You need nod lead from memory, did you not used to make maps of the land,” Gandalf pressed.

“I did. It was nearly impossible to follow the elven paths through the Greenwood without a map…” Herluin mused. “When are they leaving?”

That was the question that sent Thyra storming into house. “Da, you can’t possibly consider going?”

“Thyra-“ He started.

“You cannot go on such a quest, your cough will only grow worse!” she argued. “You also said it yourself, your memory is not what it used to be, neither are your skills with a sword. You’ll end up hurt or worse-“

“Thyra I think you forget that I am your father.” Herlluin interrupted. “Not some child that you have the authority to make decisions for me.”

Thyra scoffed at his reply, her mind going to what he and her friend had planned for her earlier that morning.  She shook her head bitterly. “Father, you must know a journey like that could mean not coming back-“

“Then it would be a worthy end. Far better than waiting for death to take me here or choke me in my sleep!”

“Da, please you cannot go,” she pleaded.

Herluin ignored his daughter instead turning to the wizard who had remained quiet through the outburst. “When are they leaving Gandalf?” he asked again.

The grey wizard silently studied the father and daughter, clicking his pipe between his teeth. His knowing eyes studied Thyra for a moment, thin bits of curly black hair springing out from her braid made her look wild, though to be fair she was fairly angry. Her father on the other hand looked tired and withered, as if he should be blown away with a strong gust of wind.

“They will leave tomorrow morning, Herluin,” Gandalf answered still fiddling with his pipe. “Though I cannot deny that you are ill, and Thyra does make many fair arguments,” he added and gestured to the table. There Thyra noticed a red spattered handkerchief, and cringed realizing her father had been hiding that from her. Gandalf continued, “Your coughing could be heard down the road! As I said your daughter is right, that this quest maybe one you do not come back from. However, should she come along, she would be valuable as a healer and could care for you.”

Thyra crossed her arms over her chest, and looked between the two men, her brows pulled low over her brown eyes. “And who are you to say I agree to go?” she asked.

Gandalf raised two bushy gray brows at her before answering. “As I said before Thyra, you have changed since we last met, whether or not it has been for the better or not is still to be decided.”

Thyra kept her hard look on the wizard, not about to take anything either man said lightly.

“The dwarves will meet in the Shire tonight,” Gandalf continued before producing a small map and placing it on the table. “There they will gather to discuss their quest and collect their fourteenth member. If you both feel it necessary to meet the company before making a decision I suggest you both go.” As he spoke, the wizard traced a path out of Bree and into the west to a small picture of hill, a place labeled Baggend. “There will be a mark on the door, easy enough to find.”

Thyra looked kept her arms firmly across her chest as she looked at her father. She was not about to let him decide for her or have a say in what she wanted to do. “I will go alone,” she answered firmly keeping her stare with her father’s. “It may be best if I go alone. My father can rest and prepare himself before  _we_  take the journey east.” She uncrossed her arms and untied the apron from her skirt. “Also the dwarves, I assume they are all male-“ Gandalf nodded in confirmation, “-then I do not think they would appreciate a surprise such as myself, arriving with my father the day they are to leave. It might be best to introduce myself first.” She dug her nails into her palms a bit anxious to what her father would say, but determined to go no matter what he said.

Gandalf was the first to speak up, “I believe you are correct Thyra.” Her father only staring at her, his jaw clenched ever so slightly. “Herluin if you plan to make this journey, you must rest, and I believe Thyra is wise in asking the leader of the quest permission to go first.”

Thyra mimicked her father for a moment. She had not really intended to ask permission to go, only to make it understood why she should be allowed to go. Still she kept her mouth shut for the moment and nodded.

Herluin let out a breath at last and nodded to his daughter. “Thyra if you are to make it before nightfall, I suggest you leave now,” he said at last.


	3. Chapter 2: Dinner and Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thyra arrives at Baggend, but things do not go as smoothly as she thinks they will.

 

            The evening sun cast a golden glow over the rolling hills as Thyra made her way toward the Shire. The light wind tousled some of the hair that had come loose from her thick braid, as she strolled  down the quiet dirt path. She wished she could focus on the flowers growing neatly out in front of the little homes, or even the brook weaving its way in and among the hills, but instead Thyra’s mind went over the conversation she had with Gandalf and her father.

            Gandalf, more so than Herluin, thought it was a good idea for Thyra to meet with the dwarven company and heartily encouraged that she pack a small bag, as it would be nightfall by the time the meeting finished. Despite starting to have second thoughts to the plan, Thyra changed from her daily attire to more suitable clothes for travel. She kept her fairly worn boots, but exchanged her skirt for trousers, and her blouse for a thicker long sleeved shirt with an old grey traveling cloak. The wizard suggested that she attempt to acquaint herself with the hobbit, who was to be the host for the evening, before the dwarves arrived. Tacking his advice, Thyra knew she would have to leave her home early. Even on horse-back the journey to the place called Baggend, would take most of the day and she would likely get there just in time for the meeting. It was as she saddled her horse and rechecked the map Gandalf gave her that her father finally gave her some advice, “Do not allow them any reason to doubt you. Do not let them underestimate you, or think less of you. You will never have their respect otherwise.”

            All of this echoed in her mind as she came into her first real view of the Shire. From where she stood upon a hill, she could see behind her, the inn and stables where she left her horse for the night, but looking forward she could see small bright colored doors in each of the hill sides. The further in she followed the little dirt paths, Thyra found herself smiling at the little people as some tended their little gardens filled with vegetables and flowers, and still others bustled along the weaving paths of the village. The more suspicious of the Hobbits gave her curious long looks as she walked by, or whispered cautiously before shuffling behind their little fences. Thyra could only tug on the strap of her pack, give a small smile and continue walking until she found the round green door, with a small glowing rune carved into the bottom.

            Thyra hovered around the front of the door for a moment,    pacing in a small circle so that she would walk up to the door, or look over the little dwellings  burrowed into the ground. She took a breath and knocked on the door. Glancing over her shoulder once again, half expecting to see a band of dwarves weaving through the winding paths,  Thyra could hear some quick shuffling and  a lock being turned.  She folded her hands in front of her as the door slowly opened revealing a small male hobbit with a messy mop of brown-reddish hair. His curious brown eyes looked up at her wearily, for someone that was supposed to be playing host, he did not seem to be expecting company.

            “Err Bilbo Baggins?” Thyra asked, feeling the need to stoop a little, though the top of his head just passed her shoulders. She did not want to frighten the poor fellow and was always used to having to look up to the people she talked to.

            “Yes? Can I help You?” He asked opening the door wider. His round brown eyes looking behind Thyra as if expecting someone else to be with her.

            “I uh errr,” she stuttered. So much for confidence and friendliness. “My name is Thyra Sieglinde, may I come in? If not I understand I just-”

            “No no no, You may come in,” Bilbo answered opening the door for her and shuffling aside. Thyra, for the first time in a long time, felt too big and awkward as she felt the need to duck through the doorway, despite her head passing just below the archway. Bilbo looked at his guest and rocked on his heels, “So Miss Thyra, what brings you here?”

            Thyra pulled on her braid at his question, but smiled, “I assume you are acquainted with Gandalf the Grey?” she said still unsure if Bilbo was aware of the meeting about to happen within his home. She watched as his eyes went wide with fright for a moment and gave a nod in answer. “He instructed me to come here, I was to meet with you and few others, but it seems that I might have been mistaken?”

            Bilbo stiffened and tapped the sides of his legs as he shook his head. “I’m not sure what ‘others’ Gandalf was referring to, but I assure you I am the only one who is here.” The hobbit looked at her and quickly looked away as they attempted to study one another, but not sure how to continue the conversation.

            He fished around his robe pockets for something, and Thyra stepped a little more into the foyer looking down the halls were she could see little trunks and trinkets and decorations lining the walls. She wrung her hands on the edge of her cloak before quickly turning to Bilbo, “My apologies, you must forgive my staring. I- I’ve never been in a hobbit hole before,” Thyra said offering a small smile.

            “I’d say most humans have not been in a hobbit home,” He answered as he found his pipe and stuck it in his mouth.

            She blinked at his correction and nodded in agreement. “You are very right Mister Baggins. I’ve just always been curious what the insides look like.” Taking a step to ward a small mantel with a picture of a curly haired woman, who she assumed was Bilbo’s mother, Thyra examined the little potted plants. She turned back to Bilbo, “You see my mother was part hobbit, and I like to imagine she grew up in something like this- my aunt didn’t talk about their home nearly enough for me to understand-“

            Before Thyra could finish her thought, her stomach grumbled loudly, causing both her and Bilbo to start laughing.

            “I was about to start on supper, I don’t suppose you’d like to join me?” Bilbo asked, a the corners of his mouth pulling up slightly.

            “Are you sure Mister Baggins? I’d hate to intrude more than I already have-“

            “Nonsense, you came out this far, you might as well have something to eat.”

            Thyra nodded, and followed him into the small kitchen. The two had a few laughs as Thyra found herself bumping into the counter every so often. Still between the bumps and her attempt to get familiar with his kitchen, Bilbo and Thryra were quite a team as they prepared supper. For it only being the two of them, they made a lot of food: fish, vegetables, bread, small cakes soon filled the dinner table. She had meant to ask Bilbo if he was expecting the others to eat with them, but the only thing left in her mind was the smell fruit she was cutting to set on the table. After everything was in place, the two sat down in the candle lit dinning room with their plates of food.

            On the wall behind Bilbo laid a map of Middle Earth, making all the little mountain peaks between Eriador in the west and Rhovanion in the east look like nothing more than squiggles. Bilbo turned in his chair to look at the map, then nodded before turning to his food.

            “Do  you travel much Mister Baggins?” Thyra asked still attempting to study the map.

            The Hobbit shook his head, making his little curly hair bounce a bit. “No no, too much trouble, too dangerous,” was all he answered as he stayed looking down at his food. “What about you. Surely if you know Gandalf then you must.”

            “He was a friend to my mother and father actually,” She answered before taking a sip of tea. “My father used to be a map maker before he met mother, and after some time they both set out to map out safer routes to travel on.”

            Bilbo nodded, his little auburn curls bouncing ever so slightly. “Where are they now? I’m assuming they’ve settled down by now, yes?”

            “My father and I live in Bree, just on the edge closer to the river-”

            “A-And your mother? Surely she lives with you both-“ Bilbo prompted.

            Thyra pushed the carrots around on her plate and nodded. “I’d like to think she would be with us, but she passed away when I was very young. Birthing a child was too much for her body.”

            Thyra looked up to see Bilbo had dropped his fork, his lips trembling a bit as he searched for an apology. “I’m sorry. I did not mean-“

            She put up a hand to stop the Hobbit’s stammering. “You do not need to apologize Mister Baggins. There is nothing to apologize for,” Thyra replied. There was not anything she, or anyone else for that matter could do to change the past and so she refused to let herself be too upset over someone she never knew. All Thyra needed to know about her mother was written in the healing and plant journals.

            She chewed slowly on a carrot, and looked up just in time to see Bilbo shifting his food around on his plate. She pursed her lips for a moment, and put down her fork. “Apparently, my mother and I looked fairly similar, if you would care to see a picture,” she said with her hand wrapped around the locket Calder gave her. She waited for Bilbo to give a small nod and shrug before carefully handing over the locket.

            The locket was more of a small closeable frame with a chain welded on, but inside held an old picture of her father and mother from when they were much younger. Like her mother Lyra, Thyra had long dark hair, dark brown eyes and a round face. However, unlike her mother wavy curls, Thyra’s hair bounced in wild curls she usually tried to contain with a braid. Thyra’s nose sat crookedly on her face, from breaking her nose as a child, and though she had her father’s thick brows, they did not over shadow Lyra’s charm lingering in her daughter’s smile.

            Bilbo looked between the picture and Thyra a few times before finally speaking, “You do look alike. From this picture you look like you could have been her sister.”

            Thyra shook her head with a laugh, “You are a wonderful liar, Mister Baggins.” She reached over the table as he handed the picture back, and a small smile came to her as she closed it and stored it away in her pocket. “Sometimes I wish I could have met her, but I like to think that I know the most important thing about her.” Thyra thought for a moment of the journal sitting in her travel pack, filled with notes and stories about how to cure certain ailments. “She loved me, and she loved helping people. My father says that we make sacrifices for those we love, and my mother gave her life so that I could have mine.” Thyra tugged on the end of her braid before reminding herself to continue eating.

            “You’re mother sounds like a good woman,” Bilbo said smiling, “My own mother-“ The Hobbit stopped, his brows furrowed low over his round button nose as loud knocking echoed through the hole. He blinked a few times before getting up. “If you’ll excuse me.”

            Thyra nodded, and curiously followed Bilbo back to the foyer guessing that this was the first of the dwarves she was supposed to meet that night. She stepped up behind Bilbo as he slowly opened the door to reveal a rather burly looking dwarf with a long brown beard and tattoos across the top of his bald head.

            “Dwalin, at your service,” the dwarf greeted gruffly.

            “B-Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” stuttered the poor hobbit as the dwarf pushed pass him and into his home. “D-Do we know each other?”

            “No” The dwarf grumbled as he tossed his cloak aside smothering Thyra’s attempt at an introduction. “Which way is it lad?”

            Bilbo stammered and tried to get in front of Dwalin while Thyra hung up the cloak on a coat rack. “Wh-which way is what?” The hobbit fretted.

            “He said there’d be food, and lots of it,” Dwalin pressed as he made his way to Bilbo’s dinning room.

            Thyra slowly followed after Bilbo just in time to see the burly dwarf sit behind her new friend’s dinner plate and dig in. She blinked a few times and put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder as he stood gaping at Dwalin shoving biscuits into his mouth. “Bilbo, I haven’t touched my plate really, you can-“

            “No no, that’s nonsense Thyra. Theres still plenty of food! I just don’t know where this dwarf came from,” he whispered. He crossed his arms and opened his mouth as if to say something else, but stopped as more knocking rang through the home. The color drained from his face as he stiffened looking in the direction of the door.

            “That’ll be the door,” Dwalin grumbled behind his mouth full of food.

            Thyra nodded and flashed the dwarf a polite smile, before ushering Bilbo to the door. Once again Bilbo’s hand trembled as he cracked the door open. Another dwarf stood in the doorway admiring the first few stars as they began to dot the sky. This one was much older, not as tall, and had a thick white beard. “Balin, at your service,” He greeted with a small bow smiling at both Bilbo and Thyra.

            “Thyra, at yours,” she answered, pulling at her skirt a little unsure if she should curtsy or not.

            “Good evening…”Bilbo finally managed.

            “Yes, it is,” Balin answered giving another quick glance to the sky before walking in the home, “Though I think it might rain.” He shrugged off his red cloak, “Can you take this for me lass?” holding out his cloak to Thyra, who nodded and put it on the coat rack with the other brown one. Before he could properly thank her, Balin found himself being embraced by the first dwarf.

            Bilbo finally turned to Thyra as the two dwarves were distracted. “What are they doing her? Do you know them?” he demanded, pointing a small finger at her.

            Thyra shook her head, “My apologies Mister Baggins, but I do not know them. I believe that Gan-“

            Some rustling and dragging furniture made the hobbit jump. He put his hands up, “Excuse me a moment,” and he darted into the walk in pantry they had used earlier.

            Thyra tugged on the end of her braid. Dwalin and Balin must have been the first two of the dwarven company Gandalf spoke of and that meant much more were on their way. She looked down the hall, where Bilbo was trying not to argue with the dwarves, or so it seemed from his tense posture and twitching hands.

            Another knock at the door had Bilbo and Thyra looking to the door. She was just about to open the door, when Bilbo rushed up to the door and opened it just enough for Thyra to see two more dwarves standing the doorway. These two were much younger than Balin and Dwalin that showed as they both seemed to bounce on the heels when Bilbo opened the door. The first, more excitable dwarf, had dark shaggy hair and stubble just lining his jaw. The other, had a bit of sterner look about him with long blond braids lining his face and his beard.

            “Fili,” The blond started.

            “And Kili,” Said the dark haired one continued, before they finished in unison, “At your service.

            “You must be Mister Boggins!” Kili exclaimed.

            “No! You can’t come in!” Bilbo exclaimed  quickly trying to close the door. Thyra stepped out of the way, hoping she would not be run over by the dwarves as they forced the door back open.

            “What has it been canceled?” Kili asked his brown eyes wide.

            “No one’s told us!” Fili finished as he tried to look around the door at Bilbo.

            Bilbo looked at Thyra, his brows furrowed then back to the two dwarves, “No nothing’s been canceled-“

            “Well that’s a relief,” Kili said pushing right through the door followed by whom Thyra assumed was his brother Fili.

            The former flung off his cloak with flick and smacked Thyra in the face. She blinked and muttered, “Yes I can take your cloak for you,” before hanging it with the others. She shook her head with a sigh the blond dwarf approached her.

            “My apologies Miss Baggins, my little brother doesn’t always mind himself,” Fili said as he took off his own cloak.

            Thyra felt warmth flood her face, “Oh I’m- I’m not a Baggins! My name is Thyra Sieglinde. I arrived just a few hours earlier, and met Mister Ba-“

            “That’s my mother’s glory box! I would appreciate-“ The rest of Bilbo’s comment was lost as the flush faced hobbit followed after Kili trying to pick up mud and weapons.

            Tugging on her braid, Thyra turned her attention back to Fili as he smiled at his brother and Bilbo. She probably should have told Bilbo earlier about the dwarves’ arrival. “Ah Fili, would you like me to hang your cloak, or find a place for your weapons? I don’t think you want those at the dinner table,” She offered taking and hanging his cloak.

            “Thank you Miss Thyra!” He exclaimed dropping two thick heavy swords in her arms.

            “Oi! Lads give us a hand over here!” A voice called from the pantry down the hall. Fili quickly followed after his brother with Bilbo tailing after the two of them. Thyra sighed and brushed back the loose strands of hair that came loose from her braid. She bit her lip and stretched her hands, before heading into the kitchen to see what other food she could prepare.

            She started by taking out more of the pans she and Bilbo had used and cleaned earlier. “Need some help lass?” Balin called entering the kitchen. After giving the old dwarf a nod, she went to the kettle to add the finishing touches to a beef stew she and Bilbo had started earlier that night.

            Before long the table was covered from end to end with enough food to fill a king’s dining hall, if a King’s dinning hall fit inside a wealthy hobbit hole. Thyra looked at plates and dishes set on the table and looked around wondering how a single hobbit had so many different kinds of dishes.

            Bilbo’s frustrated shouting pulled her away from her thoughts. “There’s no one home!” Still he stomped to the door, “If this is some- some plotthead’s idea of joke,” he fumed as he reached for the door, “Then it is in very poor taste!” He yanked the door open only to have eight more dwarves tumble through the door and crash to the floor. Bilbo sputtered helplessly as the dwarves pushed themselves to their feet and Gandalf chuckled behind them, still standing outside.  “Gandalf, of course,” Bilbo muttered as the dwarves marched through to the dining room.

            “Hello Gandalf,” Thyra greeted as she picked up the discarded cloaks from the floor. “I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive.”

            “Good evening Miss Sieglinde,” The wizard replied pulling off his hat and putting it with the cloaks. Seeing Gandalf hunched over made Thyra feel grateful that she was only just a few inches taller than the dwarves as they hurried past with trays of food. “Don’t not fret so much Bilbo, you’ll find them quite a merry bunch once you get used to them,” he said to a rather numb looking Bilbo.

            “You knew they were coming,” Bilbo accused as he turned to Thyra.

            She tugged on her braid and the corner of her mouth pulled up slightly. “Err yes,” she answered drawing out the ‘ee’ sound in yes. “I did ask about others when I first arrived. I thought you knew, I would have warned you properly if I didn’t think you knew.” She hadn’t realized she had undone her braid until she found the small piece of leather she used to tie it back on her fingers. “I also did warn you about getting something to eat though,” she added as she turned to go the kitchen.

            “Wh-What are you doing?” Bilbo demanded following after her, completely oblivious to Fili walking on top of his table handing out ale.

            “Making you another plate. Otherwise you will only follow and fuss after the dwarves and not eat anything!” Thyra filled a plate with cheese, dried meat and bread for the huffy hobbit and shoved it into his hands before he could accuse her of anything else and stomped off to sit with Gandalf at the dining room table.

            With her small piece of leather looped around her fingers, her curly black hair was starting to pop out of the braid at odd angles. She sat down with a huff at the crowded table filled with rowdy dwarves flinging food at one another. She looked up meeting Gandalf’s raised bushy brows.

            “Tired already?”

            Thyra shook her head, making more curls spring from her head. “No! Of course not! Just-“

            “Well then drink up Miss Sieglinde!” Kili beamed as he shoved an ale into her hands.

            “Please call me Thyra,” she said taking a long swig.

            “It seems as if you have had not problems with any member of the company yet,” Gandalf said giving her a stern look and then looking to Bilbo where he sat picking at his food by the fire place.

            Thyra wrinkled her nose a bit, and took another drink of ale. “I’d say Bilbo has the right to be upset. After all the poor hobbit did not seem to be expecting any kind of guest when I arrived.”

            “So you really are just a guest here too?” Kili exclaimed before shoving a biscuit in his mouth.

            “Aye, I am. I just happened to get here before your lot did.” Thyra put down her mug.

            “Oh, then I think I owe you an apology Miss.” He scratched his head and crumbs scattered over the front of his tunic. “I thought you were a Lady Baggins, but my brother Fili just told me, and well I wanted to be sure-“

            Thyra shook her head with and picked up her mug again. “You don’t need to apologize…Kili?” she waited for him to nod before continuing. “All is well, its been a fairly busy night I’d say,  do not fret.”

            “And to think I thought you were married to him!” Kili chortled gesturing to the other room were Bilbo was now just glaring down at his plate.

            Thyra choked and coughed as she had just taken another drink of ale. “N-No no! I’ve only just met Mister Baggins.  Though my aunt would have liked that sort of thing, thinking I should already be married.” Thyra took another long drink of ale and glanced down into the nearly empty mug.

            “And how old are you then?”

            “Don’t you know better than to ask a woman her age?” She quickly retorted causing the young dwarf to jump back. She laughed a little and shook her head, “Fifty-six, an old maid to most, but I’m not most.” She looked down into her mug again and sighed.

            Thyra opened her mouth, about to ask Kili a little bit more about the meeting that was to take place, and for another ale, when an egg came flying past her face into the mouth of a very large orange haired dwarf. The already rowdy table erupted into cheers and fits of laughter, so much that even Thyra found herself laughing along with them. Soon enough she found bits of food stuck in her hair as more food was tossed and passed around. That was when she decided she had enough of sitting and drinking, and got up to pass out more ale, and whatever food was left sitting in the kitchen.

            Much of the night passed in burst of laughter and stuffing faces. Between talking to Gandalf about the state of her father’s health, and consoling Bilbo, Thyra did her best to keep drinks flowing, and plates full. Of course Gandalf assured her that Herluin had been drinking plenty of tea for his cough, while Bilbo still fussed and chased after dwarves trying to bring order to them. She finally managed to stop him in the foyer to suggest that he try to relax in one of his many drawing rooms when a dwarf layered in knitted sweaters and scarves came in holding an empty dish out to the two of them.

            “Excuse me, but what should I do with my plate?”

            “Give it here Ori, I’ll take that!” Fili intervened coming up behind Bilbo and Thyra. He grabbed the plate, tossed it in the air and bounced it on his shoulders and elbows to his brother Kili in the hall near the dining room. From there she could hear stomping and banging, from the others still in the dining room.  The clashing of utensils filled the home soon enough.

            “D-Don’t do that!” Bilbo fretted, his face turning red. “You’ll blunt the knives!”

            “Oi! Did ya hear that lads?” A dwarf with a curious looking hat called, “He says we’ll blunt the knives!”

            Thyra tugged on her hair, just waiting for one of the plates to go crashing to the floor, especially as the dwarves broke into song about Bilbo’s dinning pieces.

_Blunt the knives, and bend the forks_ _  
_Smash the bottles and burn the corks_  
_Chip the cups and crack the plates_  
_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!__

      
             They sang whilst tossing more and more plates into the kitchen from across the house.

_Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!_ _  
_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!_  
_Pour the milk on the pantry floor!_  
_Splash the wine on every door!_  
_Dump the crocks in a bowl;_  
_Pound them up with a thumping poll_  
_And when you’re finished, if any are whole_  
_Send them down hall to roll!_  
_That’s What Bilbo Baggins hates!__

  
    Despite all they sang about nothing was broken, chipped or rolling across the floor, instead all cleaned and stacked up nicely. Thyra let out a breath of relief, and silently began putting away dishes in the cupboard. If the dwarves kept up their shenanigans on the journey, surely she thought poor Bilbo would fall ill. She herself was starting to feel a low throbbing just above her brows. Between the ale and the all the noise from the night, she would welcome some fresh air to clear her head.

            She offered Bilbo a quick reassuring smile as he tried to stop her from leaving. “I’ll be back, I just need some air. Besides, I do not think Gandalf will let them get any rowdier than they already have been.” She did not wait for a nod or any other kind of acceptance, instead just opening the door and stepping out into the warm summer night.


	4. Chapter 3 Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thyra finally meets the leader of the company, and convincing the dwarves to let her accompany them is much more difficult than she realized.

A cool clean breeze greeted Thrya as she stepped outside. Though she enjoyed the merriment of the dwarves more than Bilbo, the noise and smell of ale were starting to smother her and giver a headache. Much like the crowds of the Prancing Pony. Stretching, she sat down on the little bench in front of Bilbo’s home to admire the stars twinkling above. She took a deep breath letting the cool air  clear her lungs and spinning head while  and spinning head while. She listened to the muffled ruckus coming from inside Bilbo’s.

            _'Do not allow them any reason to doubt you, to underestimate you, or think less of you. If you fail you will never have their respect.'_ Her father had said.

            She sighed tugging on remaining braid and roughly ran a hand through her curls. How in Eru’s  name was she to persuade these dwarves to let her accompany them, when only three of them even acknowledged her? Balin, and Fili were the only dwarves who acknowledged her upon arrival, Kili only did after his brother urged him to. She leaned back in the chair and combed out the last of the braid with her fingers and her stomach lurched. It likely did not help that she had not eaten anything since breakfast.

            The sound of frustrated muttering pulled Thyra’s attention away from her thoughts. In the shadows between the flickering flames in the hobbit homes a short stocky figure lurked. The shadow crept along the path leading toward Bilbo’s home.

            Thyra hesitated for a moment thinking the person might be looking for something and just lost, but instead of calling out, she stood up and quickly ducked back inside Bilbo’s home. She blinked a few times as she walked in on Bilbo arguing with one of the dwarves. She bit the inside of her cheek as Bilbo pulled a doily out of the hand of the dwarf with the silly hat, Bofur, if she remembered correctly.

            She did not get the chance to ask as she was knocked forward into Gandalf as another dwarf scurried passed. She spun around again only to almost walk into a dwarf with an ear trumpet. Above her Gandalf counted off each dwarf on his fingers, “Kili, Fili, Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Nori, Dori..” He looked around, a crease coming between his eyebrows.

            “Gandalf is something wrong?” Thyra asked trying to stay out of the way of another dwarf with an ax in his head.

            “Ah there you are Thyra,” He said nodding his head. “Now we are just missing one more person…”

            At that moment there came a knock at the door.

            “He is here…” Gandalf said as an exhausted disheveled Bilbo slouched to and opened the door.

            There stood who Thyra assumed to be the final dwarf. He stood straight with his shoulders back, a light blue cloak hanging off them. She did not hear much of what he said upon walking in, because yet again she found herself covered in a discarded cloak.

            “…Found it at all if not for the woman slamming the door and mark on it.” She heard him say as she hung the cloak. So she did exist, nobody just bothered to ask if she would help them.

            She crossed her arms over her chest, matching his hard gaze for a moment and then quickly looking to Bilbo who stood beside her. She was not much taller than the dwarf only and inch or two taller. So this was the person stomping about outside a moment ago. She uncrossed her arms, realizing she probably should have offered to help him.

            Looking up as the wizard turned to her and Bilbo, “Meet the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

            The dark haired dwarf turned to Bilbo and Thyra with a small nod. She curtsied in reply, but Bilbo on the hand had taken to inspecting his door.

            “What mark? There is no mark! I painted it a week ago!” Bilbo complained to Gandalf.

            “Of course there is a mark. I placed it there myself!”

            Thyra took a step back away from the door, not wanting to hear the two of them bickering. She wiped her hands on her skirt preparing to go back to the kitchen.

            “I was not expecting to see a woman here,” The newest dwarf stated gruffly.

            Thyra nodded slowly and met the stern look at the company leader. “My name is Thyra Sieglinde. No one had been expecting me,” she started, “Well except Gandalf.” She directed her attention to the wizard and hobbit still bickering.

            Thorin followed suit and shook his head. “So this is the hobbit,” he started looking between Gandalf and Bilbo. “Seems more like a grocer, than a burglar.” He circled Bilbo as he sputtered in confusion having finally settled the door matter with Gandalf. “Tell me what kind of weapons are you familiar with?” He demanded.

            Thyra frowned, and moved over to Bilbo’s side as he was no longer being circled.

            “Well I am quite skilled at conckers, if I do say so myself,” Bilbo started, “But I fail to see why that should matter.

            “I thought as much,” Thorin said looking to the other dwarves who gathered around. He crossed his arms over his chest, a hint of a smug smile on his face.

            Frowning deeply Thyra stepped in, “You ask him such questions, but do not give a reason. I think it should be lucky that he does not need to know weapons, or else I fear your company would not have made it into his home for the evening.”

            Thorin seemed to open his mouth to answer but glanced up at the figure behind Thyra. An old withered hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder. “All be answered in good time my dear,” Gandalf said as Bilbo scuttled off to clean up another part of his home. “Now let use retire to the dining table. There is much to be discussed.”

            Thyra started to walk off, after the dwarves, but Gandalf held her steady. “Do not forget what your part in this is. You must win their favor,’ he mumbled.

            “Yes, you’re right.”

            Gandalf eyed her for a moment, his grey eyes scanning her face for something she did not have an answer to yet. “Your father told you many things about your mother, yes?”

            “He always said that she wanted to make sure people did not forget her, whether it was by her words or actions.” She pursed her lips unsure of her outburst now.

            “Yes, and I believe Lyra Sieglinde would have a fit knowing that her daughter has merely been playing hostess!” Gandalf scolded.

            Thyra frowned and opened her mouth in protest, but shut it quickly, just giving a nod.

            “Good now come up with a way to convince them. You should also probably bring Thorin some stew. I suspect he has not eaten.”

            Thyra blinked rapidly at Gandalf, and let out a tired laugh. He smiled at her, obviously amused by his jest and her reaction. She just waved him off and wandered back to the kitchen glad to find that there was still stew and biscuits left. She served the last ladles of stew into a bowl, poured another mug of ale,  and ambled back into the dinning room. Even if she would not be welcomed to the meeting right away, the excuse of bringing food, would be a welcomed enough gesture.

            She was surprised to find that the same dwarves who had been causing such a ruckus only a few moments ago had managed to oraganize themselves into a solemn ring around the table. Each dwarf who had been laughing and jesting before, now sat grim faced, brows pulled down low over their eyes. Even Kili and Fili for their light heartedness upon arrival were more attentive and serious Thorin seemed to have finished speaking.

            “Ehem, Pardon me,” she started quietly turning her attention to Thorin, “but I did not know if you’d eaten yet, and there was still some stew.” She held out the bowl and mug for a second and then set it on the table in front of him.

            “Thank you, Lady-“

            “Thyra is fine,” she interjected shuffling a few steps back to stand closer to where Gandalf sat. The wizard silently chuckled to himself as he fiddled with his pipe.

            Thorin nodded, “Thank you, Miss Thyra.” He watched her for a moment, as if waiting for her to do something more. “Is there something else you wish to say?” He asked looking

            Swallowing thickly she nodded her head, and tried to ignore the heat rising in her face and eyes of the company on her. Even sitting down he made her feel small and insignificant. But she needed to do this. She needed to be allowed to join, for her father. If something happened to him while on the journey and she was not there, she would never be able to forgive herself. Inhaling deeply, she stood up straighter and looked him in the eyes, “I wish to request your permission to join your quest.”

            Thorin matched her look, while the other dwarves shifted in their seats. “And what makes you think you are in such a position to make a request such as that?” He demanded.

            Thyra looked to Gandalf, though he kept his eyes down on his pipe in his hands. Her stomach twisted, “My father, Herluin Sieglinde, was asked by Gandalf to accompany you on your quest-“

            “Yes, Gandalf said that he would get another guide for the company. Why did he not come to our gathering?”

            “He had other business to attend to.” She did not want to tell any one about her father’s condition. “He wished for me to attend in his place-“

            “Why did he not send his son?” Another dwarf with a large red beard demanded.

            Another dwarf slammed down his mug, “What business was it? Why couldn’t you take care of that for him lass?”

            Thyra could feel her headache coming back as the dwarves began shouting over one another asking her questions about her father. “My father has no sons!” she exclaimed. Out of the corner of her eye Bilbo stopped in his sweeping to poke his head into the room. She pinched the bridge of her nose, “My father’s business is his own, he would not tell me and instead asked me to attend on his behalf! Now may I continue?”

            Silent stares waited for her to continue.

            “As I said Gandalf asked my father, Herluin, to continue guiding you lot across land, specifically after you cross the mountains. My father has mapped out many of the routes through Mirkwood, and has been having me replicate his maps,” a small lie, but she need a reason to accompany him, “He would appreciate it if you would allow me to accompany you.” Thyra finished, face still flushed and her stomach knotted, but she had given her request.

            Silence spread across the room, each dwarf exchanging a look with his neighbor and then with Thorin as he sat in front of her still.

            “I will not put a woman in harm’s way,” Thorin answered at last.

            “I understand the concern, however I could be helpful-“ she argued.

            “What weapons can you use?”

            “Well I am decent with a bow and arrow but-“

            “Would you be able to defend yourself?”

            “Yes, of course, and I know healing!” She interjected.

            Thorin stayed quiet for a moment and shook his head, “I cannot guarantee your safety.”

            “I am not asking you to.”

            “You are either very brave or very foolish for wanting to assist use, but I cannot allow you to come. My decision is final.” He watched her face ready to argue again if she chose to be stubborn.

            Thyra looked to Gandalf, waiting to hear him say that she had to be a part of the quest. How important it would be for the company to have another healer if they did not have one already. But the wizard kept to cleaning out his pipe. She looked to Fili and Kili, but only received a look of pity. She looked at Bilbo in the doorway, his mouth drawn in a loose frown. Something constricted around her chest as she turned back to the leader. “Very well. I-I und-derst-stand.” She answered before bowing her head and quickly walking out of the room the first of warm tears starting to spill down her face.

 

 

            From where she stood in the kitchen, Thyra could hear all about the plans for the quest to Erebor. Why they needed Bilbo. How he was supposed to steal some precious gem from under the nose of a dragon. Of course from what she could hear, some of the dwarves had their doubts about Bilbo, and thought for a moment that he would also not be allowed to join, until Gandalf decided to defend the hobbit.

            The whole home darkened, and Thyra felt a chill run through her at the wizard’s reaction. “You asked me to pick the fourteenth man for this journey, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins! If I say that Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, than a burglar he is! He may not look it but he has much to offer, whether or not he knows that yet.”

            She gripped the edges of the sink until her knuckles turned white. The whole idea was foolish. All of it. The very idea that by stealing back a gem, folks would follow Thorin into battle with a dragon. That having a hobbit steal the gem, because he wasn’t a dwarf meant he was the best person to accomplish such a task. She felt an ache deep in her chest, in her lungs. She wanted to argue with Thorin for thinking her uncapable. She wanted to yell at Bilbo for seemingly rejecting the chance to go. Where was her defense? Where was the wizard who would vouch for her? Above all though she wanted to yell at her father for even taking on such a foolish task in his low health.

            She wiped her hand across her wet cheek.

            “Are ya alright lass?” A voice asked from the doorway to the kitchen.

            “Y-yes I’m fine,” she sniffed wiping her cheek on her sleeve. “I’m just- just finally getting some food. How foolish of me to not have gotten any earlier?” she said forcing a quiet laugh before turning to find Balin.

            “Ya don’t need to hide it lass.” The corners of his mouth pulled up ever so slightly and he put a hand on her shoulder. “It is understandable that you’d be upset. You’re only trying to stay with your family I assume?” He waited for her nod before continuing. “I see. Accept my apology lass, but you have to understand, that a journey such as this is no place for a lady.”

            “There is no need to worry about me. I understand the concern but it is not needed.” Thyra shrugged away from his hand.

            “I do not doubt that, You seem like a caring and passionate woman,” He still had a small smile on his face. “Those things make a person brave hmm?”

            “Thank you Balin,” she said with a small nod and leaned against the counter. “But I don’t suppose this means you’d put in a word for me to join your company?”

            “I’m afraid not lass, but for the moment you may join us by the fire if you’d like.”

            With a small nod, Thyra followed the old snowy haired dwarf in to Bilbo’s sitting room. All around the fire place, the thirteen dwarves sat and stood solemn faced and weary. Thorin stood in front of the fire place a pipe in his hand and a distant look in his eyes. Kili and Fili caught her eye and motioned for Thyra to sit with them. She chose a spot on the floor next to Fili and closest to the fire, wanting to look into the flames and try to forget about her failure of the day. A low humming began quietly at first, but once she looked up Thyra realized Thorin was starting to hum louder as each of the dwarves started to join in.

  
_Far over the Misty Mountains cold,_  
Two dungeons deep, and caverns old.  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To find our long-forgotten gold.

 

            Thyra had never heard the song before, yet she found herself wiping her cheeks again. Tears stung her eyes, or it could have been the smoke from the fire, as she continued to listen to the dwarfs’ lament. They knew loss, more so than she did. She felt she had little reason to be upset. I knew little of loss.

  
_The pines were roaring on the height,_  
The winds were moaning in the night.  
The fire was red, its flaming spread,  
The trees like torches, blazed with light.

            Thyra sat in silence. She felt like an intruder, and an outsider. She was a woman. That was the reason she would not be allowed to join. It was not her job to reclaim a lost homeland. She had no right to it. Bu she did have a right to try to protect her father. That was all she wanted to do.

            The quiet low murmurs of the dwarves interrupted her thoughts, and so she took the chance to excuse herself. In the next room she found Bilbo, stuck in a daze and sitting with a cup of tea in his armchair. “Bilbo?” she whispered. He stared blankly at her, but still she supposed that was enough attention. “Err I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I believe the dwarves need a place to stay and your home has plenty of extra rooms…” She trailed off waiting for some kind of answer.

            Bilbo just gave a slow nod in answer.

            “Bilbo, why don’t you go to your room, so that the other’s know which one not to slink into?” Thyra suggested and watched as Bilbo stood up stiffly, and meandered down a hall and into a room.

            She took another steadying breath as she walked back the dwarf infested sitting room. “Excuse me” she started. All eyes turned to her, the intruder. “Master Baggins has told me to lend you all the spare rooms for sleeping.” Twelve eager faces smiled at Thyra, each more grateful than the last to have a bed and pillow before making the journey. She made sure each member, not including Gandalf who left muttering something about small beds and another inn, was comfortable, before going back to the foyer to gather her pack for the evening. She had just closed it and slung it over her shoulder when a gruff voice stopped her.

            “Where do you think you are going?” Thorin’s deep voice questioned.

            She turned to face him, not wanting to be rude. “Home.” She answered simply. “I am not allowed to travel with your company, what purpose is there for me to stay here?”

            “It is the middle of the night.”

            “Indeed it is, but that will not be much of a problem. I live in Bree, it will not take me long to ride back,” she answered shifting her back across her shoulder.

            “Foolish woman, do you not understand-?”

            “I understand that I am an outsider here and am therefore unwanted.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “There are also not enough rooms for everyone. Should I leave, you will have that final room all to yourself.”

            “Take the last room,” Thorin commanded just as Thyra wrapped her hand around the handle.

            “I do not think there is much point in that.” She sighed to herself, trying not to make any sounds of frustration as she tugged on the ends of her hair.

            “Why does there have to be a point? Why can you not just take the room for yourself?” Thorin countered.

            “I do not need the room, I will be going ho-“

            “At night, alone, in a land you do not so well? And what should happen if you get lost? What will you do then?”

            “I will manage just fine Master Oakenshield! I will get home by early morning and I will carry on my day as usual, without my father because the man is to stubborn to-“

            Thorin raised a brow at her, “Too stubborn to, what?”

            “It is not your concern,” Thyra said quickly and mentally cursing herself.” She rubbed her temples with two fingers, “Un like you or any of your men I will be comfortable in my home tomorrow night, and not using the ground for a bed. You will take the last room and I will stay here and sleep on the floor by the fire place. Is that fair enough?”

            “Hardly, but you will only continue to argue if I do not accept,” to which Thorin received a nod from Thyra.

            “That would be correct. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to sleep,” she replied. Taking a step back she muttered, “Goodnight Master Oakenshield,” and curtsied before going into the sitting room again, though not before catching some muttering about a foolish stubborn woman.

            She pulled her own cloak off the coat rack and took it back with her to the sitting room in front of the dying embers of the fire place. Just as she sat down, she heard foot steps coming down the hall. She turned to see the leader of the company coming to her, blankets spilling from his arms and a pillow stacked precariously on top.

            “You’re sleeping on the floor, you should have some comfort for the night,” Thorin said holding out the bedding to her.

            Thyra shook her head, “You are taking one final night of comfort before a very long journey, you should keep them on the bed. I will be fine-“

            “You are one roll away from being in the hearth, take the cover and sleep further away. You also have no pillow-“

            “And neither will you if you insist upon giving it to me. I have my cloak I can use as a blanket, I will be fine.” Thyra looked up at him not willing to give in

            “Why are you being so stubborn? Why can you not just accept the blanket and pillow-“

            “Why are you treating me as if I am your responsibility?” Thyra pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “I appreciate the concern, but my well being is none of your concern right now.”

            The dwarf king looked down at her, and let out a quiet huff. “I do not want to argue with you. I would rather get to sleep. Take at least one blanket, I will keep the rest then,” he bargained and waited for the stubborn set of her jaw to relax.

            “Alright, that is fair,” Thyra agreed. She stood up and untangled the thinnest blanket from his arms and prepared her space for sleep a little further away from the hearth. She laid down, wrapped her cloak around herself, and folded the blanket over herself, waiting to hear the quiet thud of the bedroom door before finally closing her eyes and going to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I will do my best to stay true to the characters and the story. As always feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy.


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